


The Doctor for America

by krabapple



Category: Doctor Who (2005), West Wing
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krabapple/pseuds/krabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh is forced to take on an assistant – a rather unusual assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doctor for America

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the Bartlet's first campaign, and after season two of Doctor Who, with no season three spoilers.

_New Hampshire_

 

Leo cornered him next to the coffee maker. Josh once again cursed his need to put sugar and cream into his coffee; it always slowed him down. He tried to casually stroll back to his office (it wouldn't do to look like he was running away, of course), but Leo blocked his exit by moving in front of the water cooler.

"Josh," Leo said.

"Leo," Josh replied.

Leo abruptly turned and started weaving through the bullpen, leaving Josh no choice but to follow him. "Josh, you need an assistant."

Josh sighed. "Leo, we've been over this. I don't need an assistant. I've never had an assistant. Not one that lasted, at least. They're unnecessary."

"Josh, you're the main political advisor on a national presidential campaign. You need an assistant."

"Leo, I ran a senator's office and never had an assistant."

"Yes, and you did it admirably, what with bullying the junior staffers and forcing your deputy to return your phone calls."

"Bullying? I don't bully."

"We're not going off on a tangent," Leo said, changing direction, suddenly turning right. "This is too important. You need someone who can stand between you and the press, fundraisers, and pollsters. You need a buffer; you're already drowning underneath all the paperwork, you're not making or returning important phone calls, you can't keep track of all the issues. You're no good like that. Not to me, not to Governor Bartlet."

"Leo –" Josh started, stopping when he realized they were feet from his office. "You've already picked someone out, haven't you?"

"I'd be remiss if I didn't ensure that the Governor had the best staff possible," Leo said smoothly.

"She's waiting in my office, isn't she?"

"It's a he, and, yes, I thought you might want to ask some preliminary questions."

"Did you put out an ad or just pick a random volunteer?"

"Josh, at this point a monkey would increase your level of efficiency by at least twenty percent."

"Random volunteer, it is."

Leo stopped in front of the door to Josh's office. He raised his eyebrows. "Be civil."

"I'm always civil."

Leo didn't even feel the need to reply, just opened the door to reveal a man in a brown pinstripe suit and Converse sitting in a chair across from Josh's desk, his feet up on the desk itself. He scooted to sit upright as Josh and Leo entered, knocking a mug full of pens off of Josh's desk on the process. Josh shot Leo a look, which Leo pointedly ignored, choosing instead to sit in the other chair next to the visitor.

"Oh, right, sorry. Awfully sorry about that. Er, didn't mean to make a mess," the man said, bending to pick up the pens.

"It's no trouble," Leo said easily, while Josh continued to glare. "Please, Mr. Smith, don't worry yourself." The man continued to pick up the pens. "Really," Leo said, a little more iron in his voice, and Mr. Smith stopped and sat up straighter.

"Er, right." The man grinned a bright, and Josh had to admit, rather disarming, grin. "Hullo, there," he said, reaching out to offer his hand which Josh shook. "John Smith, but you can call me the Doctor."

"Oh, are you a physician? A colleague of Dr. Bartlet's, perhaps?" Josh asked, sitting in his desk chair and continuing to glare daggers.

"Oh, no. I mean, yes, I've been to medical school, but. More of a doctorate type degree, really. And, no, not familiar with Dr. Bartlet personally. Though she has a wonderful reputation, from what I hear." The Doctor smiled, settling his gesticulating hands in his lap.

"Well. That's all . . . very interesting," Leo said, looking at Josh, who remained silent. "Do you have any prior campaign experience?"

"Working on them or being a candidate?"

Leo and Josh exchanged a glance. "You've been a candidate before?"

"On a couple of occasions."

"Anywhere we'd know about?" Leo asked.

"Oh, no, no, no. Few local elections really. Lost every time." The Doctor grinned.

"Ah." Leo nodded and turned to Josh. "Josh, do you have any questions?" Leo's tone indicated that a few questions on Josh's part would not be remiss.

"What kind of campaigns have you worked on? Have you worked for anyone we might be familiar with?" Josh asked.

The Doctor took a long breath, looked up. "Ooooh, probably no one you'd know. Well, there was Roosevelt. Both of them, Theodore and Franklin. Ted, he was quite a guy. Taught me how to use a shotgun. Really, quite interesting. FDR, knew he'd be good for the social state. Oh, and Nixon. Before Watergate, of course." The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "Though that turned out to be a mistake. Still, did the best I could at the time." He looked down at Josh and grinned that grin again. Josh was already starting to think of that smile as alarming. "Worked on a few interplanetary elections. How familiar are you with foreign policy?"

"Italy's the one that looks like a boot, right?"

"I see. No, then, no one you'd know." The Doctor looked between Leo and Josh, smile in place.

Josh tilted his head. "Leo, do you think I could speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Josh." Leo stood and opened the door, letting Josh out ahead of him and carefully closing the door behind him.

The door was barely closed before Josh hissed, "Leo, he's crazy."

Leo shook his head. "He's not crazy."

" _Leo_. The Roosevelts? He can't be over thirty-five."

"People always exaggerate in interviews," Leo said reasonably.

" **Leo**!"

"Listen, Josh. He's here, he's willing, unlike 99.8% of our staff and volunteers, and he has a _pulse_. Now get to know your new assistant." Leo turned to walk back down the hall.

"Leo! You can't do this!"

Leo merely raised his hand in dismissal as he walked away.

 

 _Georgia_

 

C.J. was sitting in one of the uncomfortable vinyl chairs outside of their gate reading _The Washington Post_ when she felt someone fall into the seat next to her.

"A rain delay. Can't believe it." The Doctor shook his head, digging into a bag of French fries.

"Yes, a delay in the Atlanta airport. It's quite shocking," CJ said dryly, turning a page.

"Rain. Quite extraordinary stuff, though it's absolutely everywhere. Can't believe it delays your airplanes, though. Not that airplanes aren't quite ingenious, really." The Doctor munched some more. "You want to fly, you figure out how to fly. You're amazing, you people are."

C.J. turned another page.

"Chip?"

C.J. looked up to see the Doctor holding out his package of fries to her. "No, thank you," she said politely.

"Are you sure? They're actually quite good."

"I'm sure." C.J. paused. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but don't you have work to do?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Returned all phone calls, prepared and issued Josh's daily briefing, read all major papers, kept up with today's legislation . . ." The Doctor trailed off. "Tried to get Josh to eat a salad, but no go in that department. He's currently having steak and potatoes with Sam."

"Well, you certainly seem to have a handle on things," C.J. noted, prepared to go back to her paper.

The Doctor smiled. "Not the easiest job I've ever had, but far from the hardest."

There were only the sounds of loudspeaker announcements and the occasional small child while C.J. finished her paper and the Doctor looked out of the window, watching the rain and the airplanes taxiing to and from gates.

"When you were a little girl, where did you think you were going?"

"Excuse me?" C.J. asked, lowering her paper.

"When you were little, where did you think life would lead you? All these planes, taking people to different places, different people, different lives. Did you ever think you'd get on one of those planes one day? Just fly off, never to be seen or heard from again?"

At first, C.J. thought about making a sarcastic remark, trying to put the Doctor off his public turn of introspection, but the look on his face, so wistful and hopeful at the same time, stopped her. Instead, she thought about it.

"Paris."

"Excuse me?"

"Paris," C.J. repeated. "I always wanted to go to Paris. I thought it was so far away – so independent. I could be sophisticated and bohemian, sit in cafes and drink coffee and read all day." She suddenly smiled, and the Doctor matched her smile.

"So what happened to Paris?"

C.J. shrugged. "Nothing, really. College, jobs, life."

"Hmmm," the Doctor said. "Have you ever been there?"

"Just briefly, once. Went with one of my older brothers on vacation with his family."

The Doctor's smile tilted sideways. "Not exactly independence, was it?"

"No – but it was fun, all the same." C.J. smiled at the memory.

"You could still go, you know."

"I know. Not just now, though."

"No, this is important right now," the Doctor agreed. "But Paris doesn't have to be in Paris itself."

C.J. considered the words for a while. "So you think I'll still make it there some day?"

The Doctor grinned. "Absolutely."

There was silence between them for a moment until C.J. asked, "When you were little, where did you think life would lead you?"

The Doctor looked pensive for a moment, then smiled a small ghost of a smile. "Just about right where I am, actually," he said, tossing his now-empty wrapper into a nearby trash bin.

 

 _Nebraska_

 

Sam and Toby liked to sit in the back of the campaign bus. They claimed it was quieter than the rest of the bus, which was probably true only because less people sat back there – and it was the lack of people that Sam suspected was the real reason for Toby's preference. Today, however, after a brief stop outside of Lincoln for gas, the Doctor wedged himself into the seat beside Sam, effectively putting himself between Sam and Toby, who was sitting in the seat on the opposite side of the aisle.

Toby sighed audibly as the Doctor sat down, causing the Doctor to lean over to Sam and stage whisper, "Toby doesn't like me."

Sam had the grace to look like this was a surprise to him. "No! Toby likes you just fine!"

"No, I don't," Toby said from across the aisle.

Sam shook his head. "That's nonsense."

"He's loud, he talks far too much, and he moves a lot. In short, he's annoying," Toby summed up, frowning at his laptop.

Sam looked troubled but the Doctor just laughed. "I've heard worse, Sam," he said, and Sam relaxed back into his seat just slightly.

"What do you want?" Toby asked abruptly.

"What?" the Doctor asked.

"What do you want? Why are you here? Did Josh send you or something?"

"Nope. Josh is on the phone with Senator Brisbane."

"And you are?" Toby continued.

"Observing your work!"

"Can't work with you sitting there, can we?"

"Toby!" Sam exclaimed.

"It's fascinating, this writing thing," the Doctor continued, as if no one had said anything. "I mean, here you are, you have this message you want to get across, like 'I like bacon', but instead of just saying 'I like bacon' you use words not only to say that, but to make it seem like bacon is the best thing that's ever been invented, and that _everyone_ should like bacon."

"Bacon?" Toby asked.

"I like bacon," Sam offered.

"Good man!" the Doctor exclaimed, beaming at Sam. Sam smiled back. Toby rolled his eyes.

"So how do you do it?" the Doctor asked.

"Do what?" Toby asked, clearly exasperated.

"Write," said the Doctor, as if the answer should have been obvious.

Toby looked away from his laptop screen. "It's hard. You have to string words together, and together, and together. They have to match, they have to make sense both with each other and apart. They have to mean what you want them to mean, not just what they might mean on their own, or what other people think they mean. You put the words together, and then you scratch them out again; you start over with new words, and those don't make sense, so you start over again. Sometimes you keep some words and sometimes you don't – most of the time you don't. It's grueling and it's hard and most of the time what's on the page isn't right at all. It's just the closest you can get to what you want to say, if you're lucky." He paused for breath. "Is that enough?" he asked pointedly.

Sam looked a little awed at this speech, while the Doctor looked thoughtful.

"But that's not all," Sam finally said in a soft voice. The Doctor and Toby turned to look at him. "That's not all. Yes, it's hard and frustrating and it makes me impatient. But words are so beautiful. There's such life in them, such expression. When you can put them together in the right way they echo off the page. They're powerful, and majestic and never put together in exactly the same way more than once. They're poetry and history and life and death and if you don't love them, then you shouldn't be in the business of working with them."

In the quiet that followed, they could hear that Josh was busy calling the Senator a "fence-sitting idiot," a sentiment that floated all the way to the back.

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling. "I'm going to have to put together some words for the card on that muffin basket of apology."

Sam smiled, and even Toby grunted in appreciation.

The Doctor moved to stand up, taking a cell phone out of his pocket. He looked down at Sam and Toby. "Thank you. Now you can get to work," he said, moving out of the row and up the aisle.

Toby looked at Sam. "Well. At least now we have permission," he said, and Sam laughed.

 

 _Oregon_

 

"Sir?" the Doctor said, moving up slowly behind the Governor, who was out on the steps of the church smoking a cigarette.

Governor Bartlet turned at the sound, taking another drag off the cigarette. "Yes?"

"Sir, Josh sent me to tell you there's ten minutes until the town meeting." The Doctor came up to stand next to Bartlet.

"Thank you," Bartlet said, looking at the Doctor sideways. "You're Josh's assistant, aren't you?"

"I'm the Doctor, yes," the Doctor said, nodding.

"How's that working out for you, Doctor?"

"I've had worse jobs, sir."

"Such as?"

"Er," the Doctor looked up and scratched the back of his head. "Well, I haven't had many jobs per se, but – well. I've dealt with a lot of alien dictators that are a little tougher than Josh."

Bartlet laughed. "Josh can be a bulldog, but his heart's in the right place."

"Certainly, sir," the Doctor agreed. "It certainly is."

Bartlet threw his cigarette stub by his feet and stepped on it. "You can tell Josh I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir." The Doctor looked sideways toward Bartlet. "Would you like a moment?"

"That wasn't clear?" Bartlet asked, but he smiled.

"No, sir," the Doctor grinned.

"You are a match for Josh, that's for sure."

"I'll take that as a compliment," the Doctor said.

"Go right ahead and do that," Bartlet answered, bowing his head a bit. "I'm going to take a moment to pray before the meeting. If you'd like, you may join me. If not, you can go inside." With that his head bowed lower, and he was silent.

The Doctor, who didn't have any faith in anyone who remained in his life, and in no deity he'd ever heard of, still remained standing on the church steps in reverence to Bartlet's own faith, cold air biting his fingers, the stars shining above him, the stained glass windows of the church shining behind him.

 

 _New Hampshire_

 

"I'm quitting," the Doctor said, walking into Josh's office, his coat already on, hands in the pockets.

"Oh, thank God," Josh answered, his head hitting the back of his chair, relief evident in his voice and on his face. Reality caught up with him, and he stammered, "Um. Not that I don't like you. Or anything. Or that you didn't do a good job –"

"I was rubbish," the Doctor said.

"Oh, thank God."

The Doctor smiled. "I didn't really learn how to answer the phone."

"But all those messages?"

The Doctor pulled at his ear. "I sort of cheated a little bit."

"How?"

"You don't want to know." The Doctor shook his head.

"You did actually help me out around here, you know," Josh said, his tone approximating something close to appreciative.

"I know, and I'm not sure who that really says more about, you or me."

"I think I'll say we both benefited and leave it at that," Josh said.

The Doctor grinned. "So do you want me to stay? I have some time."

"God, no."

"Deal." The Doctor smiled. "I'm sure there's someone out there better for you, anyway."

Josh snorted.

"Maybe just around the corner," the Doctor said. He paused. "You think I'm crazy."

"Yeah."

"Fair enough." The Doctor pulled something out of his coat pocket. "I have something of a parting gift for you." He handed Josh a CD over his desk.

Josh looked down at the packaging, whatever he was about to say dying on his lips. " _Ave Maria_?"

"One of the classics," the Doctor said. "And I don't say that lightly."

"There's this one note . . ." Josh trailed off.

"Heaven," the Doctor finished.

"I. My sister – thank you," Josh stammered, still looking at the CD in his hands.

"She would have been so good at it. Just brilliant. I'm so very sorry I couldn't do more for her."

"You knew Joanie?" Josh looked up, surprised.

"A bit," the Doctor said. "She was amazing; would have loved traveling, if she had been a bit older."

Josh looked stunned.

"You think I'm crazy, remember?" the Doctor smiled.

"Right," Josh said slowly. "Sure."

"Anyway, I'm off," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Don't forget me when you're famous," he said as he waved goodbye.

"Yeah," Josh said, watching the Doctor's retreating back.

The Doctor had just rounded the corner, heading for the small, tucked away alley where he'd parked the TARDIS, when he bumped into something hard.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" a voice said.

"Oh, not at all, my fault, steady on!" the Doctor replied, brushing some snow off his coat and looking at the young woman he'd run into. She was tall, with long blonde hair and a friendly, tentative smile.

"Well, okay then. Thanks," she said.

The Doctor was halfway down the block when he heard her call out behind him.

"Excuse me!"

The Doctor turned around.

"Do you know where the Bartlet for America campaign offices are?" she asked.

"Around the corner, to your right," the Doctor called back. "Straight on 'till morning," he said, smiling.

The woman smiled back. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Donna," the Doctor said, turning around and heading for the TARDIS, his head bowed into the cold.

If Donna wondered how the man knew her name, she paused only for a moment before continuing on to her destination.


End file.
